– That's my mom.
I got silent.
– You're going to have fun tonight. Hope you like it. My phone number is there – you can call me when you need me.
I saw Alisa Sergeievna talk to Sasha about something. I smiled and headed home.
At home I stuffed my face with my mom, by food and her favorite which we drank together. I hope Sasha won't mind if she finds out I shared her gift with someone else.
When time has come to practice for a bit, I opened the case and plucked each string. That wasn't what I expected to hear – the strings said what they wanted to say and not what they were meant to, not something I heard before.
I dialed the number at my own risk.
– Hello! Alexander Pavlovich?
– Sasha! How did you know that I…
– Dad smashed the case. I heard everything, you know. And I knew you would call me to ask for tuning help.
– Iosif Seraphimovich said strings sounded in fifths. Is that two notes, the first and the fifth?
– Absolutely. Congratulations with your first success. I'm going to hit the tuning fork now, you'll hear it.
And I heard something. A bright iron voice saying "ah."
– Thank you, Sasha. But can you sing open strings to me?
Sasha repeated the iron voice on each pitch. Then she described to me in details how to tune.
– …And first you tune the A string.
– Thank you, Sasha. It just so happens I have the A in tune.
– That's great! It'll make your problem easier. Good luck! There's dad here, telling me I should practice. See you in class!
– Bye, Sasha.
I made it in an hour. I don't know if Sasha's gift helped me or I'm just a brave fool by nature. The scariest part was the E – my eye can barely catch it, what can I say about my hands. I played a couple of songs from Kesha's music notebook.
In the notes, Kesha's teacher wrote that Kesha's fingers handle the process poorly and sometimes bleed. Some notes had small brown spots on them. I had my back twisted a bit when I noticed.
I went to bed listening to classical music – I found mom's disc she didn't like for some reason.
-
I almost skipped on my way, whistling pieces. They were mostly Brahms' Hungarian dances.
While Iosif hurried at the speed of snails, I had time to finish the book.
– Good afternoon, Kamnev. Are you performing Brahms with your mouth? Where did you learn about him?
– I don't need to live under a rock.
– That's also right. – He unlocked the class door. – Today's topic is very interesting – note duration.
– Duration? I know about it already.
He showed his teeth in disgust.
– But how?
– My brother had a music notebook. It's written about everything in there.
Iosif lowered his eyelids.
– I don't think his teacher explained the quarter notes very well.
Now it was my time to ask him, "but how."
– I'll show you. Let's tune first.
I took my device out of the case. The A wasn't an A.
– Give me that.
– I can tune already. I will.
– You can't.
– Are you sure?
I grabbed the peg and began pinching the A, gradually pushing the peg into the pegbox.
– Can't you hear that? It's an A flat. More.
– I don't know about you but I have no desire to break the string. It's an A natural.
He exhaled quickly.
– Where are you from, so smart?
I smiled.
– Okay, nevermind. Durations.
While we were looking at the new subject, Sasha arrived.
– Hello, Alexandra Sergeievna! – Iosif rolled around to see the newcomer. – Look, Kamnev, Sasha can say right now how many thirty-second notes there are in a whole note.
